Vision's Lament
by Kinotastic
Summary: Vision feels superfluous guilt for his existence and hopes to rectify that by aiding the Avengers in their endeavors to protect and preserve mankind—with the added bonus of helplessly falling in love with a witch. Rating subject to change.
1. Acceptance

An internal clock striking midnight marked two months to the day. The day that tore away so many innocent loved ones, ripped apart homes and precious land, and instilled an eternal fear in the lives of Sokovia and her people. The day of Ultron's destruction.

To the Vision, it was bittersweet to witness the reunion of families taken under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s broken wing that day; thankful for those that drew breath, and mournful for those that no longer would. He had done what he could, dutifully protected and served the people that he felt a lingering guilt for. He supposed, in a vague, roundabout way, it was his decided creation that led to that moment. It was the reason for his existence that these people suffered what they did, he believed. Completely above reproach in every way imaginable, suffering the atrocities of a program meant for protection yet corrupted to destruction.

Was he a truly a monster?

He genuinely could not see.

No one else seemed to recognize that either, and Vision could not determine if that was something to be concerned over. If they regarded him as an asset, then he would be just that. So he set out to help the Avengers initiative, aiding in the construction of their new facility, and offering whatever knowledge he possessed of the stone that allowed him sentience. Which, admittedly, was not much at all. But his enthusiasm for helping others in every way possible did not go unnoticed. Although unnerving to some, his mere presence commanded utter respect and reverence wherever he went. He did not mean to affect others in this way, and tried his best to remain humble and friendly towards those who would stare or quickly move out of his way in anxiety, or perhaps fear, he could not tell the difference. It was confounding to him that he should generate such exaltation for simply _being._

He only ever wanted to live among them. To be a _part_ of them. To be _human_.

But he accepted with dismay that he would never be such.

From time to time, Vision felt the slightest, most delicate brush against his consciousness that would undoubtedly go unnoticed were he not so perceptive. _She…_ would sometimes reach out with her terrifying and incredibly subdued power to peek into his mind for reasons unknown. It would be gentle, fleeting. At every moment that he felt her presence he yearned for a stronger connection, and ached when that presence left. He held the faintest flicker of hope deep within him that perhaps the curious young woman—who was the very first to enter his mind and touch his consciousness when he was in the Cradle—would welcome him more openly than the rest. That she would embrace him as not a synthezoid, but a human. But he could not know her true intentions, and he would not dare to ask. It was not his place.

Some time past midnight, as he sat in the living quarters engrossed in his musings, he rose to his feet and began his nightly walk out of the compound. He carried himself far across the perfectly manicured lawn that stretched before him, where he could absorb the beauty of nature and her creations.

And so the Vision stood like a statue, unmoving, silent, posture held so regally. His golden cape billowed softly behind him from the light breeze that he greeted with fondness. He stayed out during these nights, when the moon and the stars shone brightly, basking in their light and their warmth. He didn't know why they gave him such comfort. Perhaps it was because they held steadfast and immovable amidst the darkness of the encompassing universe. They seemed to speak to him, to call out to him, to sing his name as they glinted before his ever curious eyes. It didn't feel so unknown, the thing they called space. Mankind on Earth recognized the threat of alien forces and their imminent arrival, and they feared the obscurity the future held for them.

Vision understood their perspective, he acknowledged their fears, and he was content to help them overcome the unknown. But to the android that bore the Mind Stone on his brow, the universe was not unknown—it was mysterious, yes, but for some reason it was familiar, it was welcoming. He would not venture out, though. His place was on Earth: his origin, his home. He had no desire to explore that strangely welcoming abyss that loomed overhead. It was a privilege to be among humans, to immerse himself in their culture, their passion, their strength. To witness their capacity to love so deeply and so selflessly. He had no desire to abandon them and leave them stranded, helpless to the threat that resided amidst the stars, and even amongst themselves.

No. His desire was here, sleeping soundly in a dark room inside the compound behind him, dreaming of flashes of silver and blue.

A wistful smile graced his features. He knew it could never be. He was an android. A synthetic being that, although ostensibly capable of human emotion, was devoid of the gift of life. Of a family.

And he had accepted that.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the depressing first chapter. Don't lose hope, things will get better for our dear android. He just needs to... stop wallowing in self pity. Also, this is my first fic, so I hope I don't disappoint! I plan to explore Vision and Wanda's relationship with a unique approach. Cheers,** **Kino**


	2. Tranquility

Wanda had never encountered so many large cities in such a short span of time. She felt chills at the sheer beauty and magnificence of both New York City and Seoul, and yet part of her cowered in anxiety over the foreignness of it all. She could appreciate their size, but could not linger within their boundaries for too long. She felt exceptionally closed in when standing between the skyscrapers, becoming dazed if she looked up at them for too long.

Nevertheless, the one they called Fury insisted that she be brought into the heart of Manhattan to purchase new clothing, courtesy of Stark. Though, she didn't care _how_ much the billionaire tried to help. _Nothing_ he could do would allow her to forgive him for the life he doomed her with. She wasn't one to refuse money, however, as it was not something she was made of. She had worn simple tank tops and sweat pants that Miss Potts had lent her, and she knew she couldn't keep them forever. None of the men could offer their services as they hadn't the faintest clue about women's clothing, and Miss Potts was far too busy. So she traveled with Natasha and Agent Hill, or... Maria, as she insisted Wanda call her.

These battle hardened women did not idle in the frivolous boutiques and stores that riddled the town, which she was grateful for. They were in and out, browsing only for the necessary articles that would replace her tattered and frayed dress. They hunted simply for her preferred shadowy hues of scarlet and coal, as they had no intention of pressuring her into clothing she felt uncomfortable in. Afterwards, Wanda found she could enjoy their company, and felt at ease in their conversations. She would even venture to call them... _friends,_ a luxury she had not experienced since losing Pi—

 _Stop._

Wanda shook her head, not wanting to revisit those memories and ruin this pleasant day. This was a new life. A reset. A chance for her to blossom into a force they did not fathom she could even become. The untested strength she controlled just at her fingertips was surprising even to her. They would train her, teach her to explore that power, she knew. And she looked forward to it.

It had been weeks since the remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D. brought her back to the states and assured her protection. She had stayed with a few of her fellow teammates in a temporary suite within the Avengers Tower, understanding that a safer, more covert building was currently undergoing construction. So Wanda visited the campus often, assisting where she could. The last thing she wanted to become was a burden to these fine people. They brought her in and gave her shelter, warm food and a soft bed to sleep in. She had to do _something_ to repay them, although she surmised that not even a lifetime of servitude would be enough.

When the living quarters of the Avengers facility were complete and fully furnished, staff members were allowed to move in and get a head start on research and training. That included herself, Agents Romanov and Hill, and the Vision. Wilson, Rhodes and Rogers lived in their own apartments, but were requested to stay at the compound and assist in completing the remainder of the superstructure, to which they obliged. Thor was out of the country, Clint remained with his family, she frankly didn't care what Stark was up to, and no one spoke of Dr. Banner.

Wanda was dropped off at the facility after their brief shopping excursion; the other ladies were going for drinks and insisted Wanda come, but she was far too tired and wanted to rest. She dropped her bags of clothing on the floor of the lobby and reached her arms to the heavens, stretching her back. She glanced out the wall-to-wall windows and watched curiously as the Vision carried materials, tools, and equipment to and fro with but his own hands and his remarkable ability to fly. She lowered her hands and examined them, flexing her fingers, and wondered if it were possible for her to do the same. She knew her powers allowed for telekinesis, so she did not doubt it was an impossible task, but she had absolutely no idea how to try; so she thought to confront the Vision and request his assistance.

Her heart rate began to increase as she considered it further. Vision was the one that saved her that day.

Wanda still hadn't decided if she really _wanted_ to be saved. She had already lost Pietro. There was nothing more to live for.

However, the Vision's intentions were not lost on her. She understood his desire for the protection of life, as he had wisely stated only minutes after emerging from the Cradle. Still, she did not regard her life as worth saving. After she had satisfyingly _ripped_ Ultron's cruel heart out of his chest, her mind went dark, and she accepted her fate. As she waited for death to consume her, instead she felt arms, firm and strong, pulling her close from where she helplessly fell. Her vision was a blur, fear and anger overcoming her, but for a moment—as they made fleeting eye contact—her mind tentatively reached out to his and instantly became enveloped in its tranquility. She did not remember much after that, aside from a metal floor, a cold body riddled with bullet holes, and _rage, fury, despair—_

The world began to spin. Her repressed memories returned with a vengeance, causing Wanda to grimace, grasping at her head in hysteria. The image of her still brother lying on the cold floor burned within her like hellfire. She desperately tried to think of something else, her breath coming in gasps now. Something less dark, less dead, less horrifying, less _Pietro—_

 _Vision._

 _The Vision._

Wanda fell to her knees and concentrated then, still clutching her head. She flailed her consciousness in every direction for contact with his, and found it right away.

Serenity.

Composure.

Determination.

 _…Guilt?_

 _What?_

 _No, positive, positive emotions_ … She held tightly to his thoughts of peace and fortitude, letting them envelope her psyche, disregarding the guilt. She refused to let her emotions consume her again. She would be strong. She would use this anchor as a light to guide her way, when her mind darkened.

 _Tranquility._

Hours must have passed, for she felt utterly spent, and her knees hurt from pressing against the hard floor. She glanced behind her at a clock that sat on a mantle below the TV.

 _Wait, no, only moments. It's still 3:22._

"Ugh," Wanda groaned. She shook her head and rose slightly, peering through the glass where she saw Vision floating idly in the distance, adorned with an orange safety vest. "As if your shiny golden cape wasn't enough," Wanda mumbled out loud. She then smiled, amused at Vision's insistence on upholding safety standards, even for himself. His head turned in her direction and she felt a shock run up her spine as his eyes locked with hers. She dropped flat to the ground, each breath fogging the polished tile of the floor. How could he have known? Her connection to others was subtle, quiet. Only her brother could have known… it must have been a coincidence, she lied.

Her boots squeaked on the tile as she crawled across the floor to her bags, and pushed them along until she passed through the lobby. She rose to her feet, exhaling in relief, and took the bags up to the living quarters and to her room. She fell onto her bed in exhaustion, not caring to take off her shoes or jacket.

Wanda's eyes fluttered closed, and she let the arms of sleep hold her gently, meditating on that feeling of tranquility.

* * *

 **A/N:** **And so we read the beginnings of Wanda's "mental" relationship with the Vision. I hope the pacing wasn't too choppy, it'll be a bit challenging to fill in the blanks between the battle of Sokovia and the ending scene of AoU as we really aren't given a timeline. Regardless, I hope to do so in a manner that seems believable and consistent. Thanks for reading! Kino**


End file.
